you. I cannot tell you why. Many times since we first met I have
asked myself why. I, who have openly scoffed at the yoke, and boasted
proudly of my freedom. I do not know why, unless it is that to me you
are the embodiment of all womanhood--of all that is desirable and
worth while, or maybe the reason is in the fact that while I am with
you I am supremely happy, and while I am absent from you I am
restless and unhappy--a prey to my fears. I suppose it all sums up in
the reason--world-old, but ever new--because I love you." The man was
upon his feet, now, bending toward her with arms outstretched. For
just an instant Patty hesitated, then shook her head.

"No!" she cried and struggling to her feet, faced him across the
remains of the luncheon. "No, it would not be playing the game. I have
my work to do, and I'll do it alone. It would be like quitting--like
calling for help before I am beaten. This is my work--not yours, this
vindication of my father!"

"But think," interrupted Bethune, "you will not let such Quixotic
ideals stand between us and happiness! You have your right to
happiness, and so have I, and in the end 'twill be the same, your
father's name will be cleared of any suspicion of unworthiness."

"It is my work," Patty repeated, stubbornly, "and besides, I do not
think I love you. I do not know----"

"Ah, but you will love me!" cried Bethune. "Such love as mine will not
be denied!" The black eyes glowed, and he took a step toward her, but
the girl drew away.

"Not now--not yet! Stop!" At the command Bethune recoiled slightly,
and the arms that had been about to encircle the girl, fell slowly to
his sides. Patty had suddenly drawn herself erect and looked him eye
for eye: and as she looked, from behind the soft glow of the velvet
eyes, leaped a wolfish gleam--a glint of baffled rage, a flash of
hate. In a moment it was gone and the man's lips smiled.

"Pardon," he said, "for the moment I forgot I have not the right." The
voice had lost its intense timbre, and sounded dull, as if held under
control only by a mighty effort of will. And in that moment a strange
fear of him took possession of the girl, so that her own voice
surprised her with its calm.

"I must be going, now."

Bethune bowed. "I will saddle your horse, while you clear up the
table." He nodded toward the napkin spread upon the grass with the
remains of the luncheon upon it. "My way takes me within a short
distance of your cabin; may I ri